Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 59 - Introspection II
🕑 Added 2025-07-01 02:50:18 +0000 UTCMy scream echoed across the shop floors, sending seagulls up higher in the ship to the air in a panicked flight.
“Damn, getting knocked around apparently didn’t hurt your lungs too badly,” the ragged one observed while the Xang removed her hands from over her ears. “Maybe keep it down a little? I meself never had any skill at it, but some of the others did trick themselves out with those same fancy ears of yours.”
I pulled myself back in from the window, breathing as the sky now refused to change at all. The waters lapping on the boat were growing rockier, as I steadied myself against my door.
“I am in a dream,” I started, volume building as I turned to face the two of them. “I got knocked around as some kind of strange pseudo-devil, I turned into this, I assume, in real life as well as here, and you two probably aren’t even real!”
The ragged one’s smile dipped a bit. “Nah, we are real. Consider us, well, fantasies of yours.”
“Fantasies,” I repeated flatly, looking between the two of them. The ragged one still had that cocky, infuriating grin on, while the Xang had a pleasant smile that screamed insincerity, her face looking like a doll’s. “I’m pretty sure my fantasies tend not to be myself. I know people who are into that, and I am not one of them.”
The ragged one rolled her eyes while the Xang tittered a little.
“Yeah, okay, maybe not the best term. Imaginings? Forecasts? Fuck it, I’m sticking with fantasies. Of yourself. ‘Cept not in that way.”
“Perhaps remove your mind from the gutter,” Xang added politely. “Or maybe let your brain dwell in it a little more in reality instead of losing your composure every time you admit it is in there?”
“I’m in hell,” I muttered, sitting down on a wooden stool I wasn’t sure existed before now. “Metaphorically if not literally.”
“Nah, you’re in the feylands,” the ragged one said.
“Why would you consider this as bad as the Hells?” The Xang said, and I ignored her.
“I was just beginning to like that fox again,” I continued.
“You know, don’t be too pissed,” the ragged one said, taking another drink of their foul-smelling concoction. “She did save your life by doing this. Probably.”
“Really?” I snapped. “Saved my life? By sticking me inside a dream with you two?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to be a little more respectful,” Xang said, tone hurt, a sad little smile painted on that fake doll face.
“Nah, being respectful is what she does with people she thinks can kill her,” the Ragged one said, finally getting off my countertop. “Well, when she’s in a mood like this. Don’t give me that look, trying to deny what’s in your own head is hardly the healthiest of habits we’ve picked up.”
“I’m still waiting to hear how this saved my life,” I said, tail lashing about before I grabbed it by the fin, patting it as it settled in my lap.
“You not only took a rather large amount of diabolism into yourself,” the Xang said. “But you then proceeded to mostly turn yourself into a devil, dance on the brink of that several times, and only fully rejected it after having mostly absorbed it into your very being. Did you think there would be no consequences to this?”
“I wasn’t thinking about consequences,” I groused. “I was trying to handle the issue of a devil being in my home, and not a small one.:
“Yep,” the Ragged one agreed. “And with the tools you had at your disposal? It did work, even if you could have taken different paths. But that does mean you still have to pay up for the methods you used.”
“It could have been worse,” A third voice suddenly piped in from among my shelves. “There was always the chance that exposure to the souls inside the Circle would have made the diabolism incompatible with you. That would have probably resulted in your body being torn apart at best, immediately forming into a devil whose consciousness was formed out of this damned souls and contained none of yours. Worse possible outcome, our soul would have been obliterated.”
I’d gotten off my stool, moving done the rows the entire time the third voice talked, and finally found her.
Lying in between two of my shelves on the ground, perusing a book, was another me. Stains of soot and ash and other chemicals lay across her face, her hair bleached a half-dozen colors. She wore protective leather gear marked with sigils I recognized as belonging to one of the alchemy guilds in the city, a goblet overflowing with liquid silver, as well as a mage’s guild as well, a blue glowing lantern. People far too full of themselves who’d organized to revel in their own pretense, complete with names to match.
Seekers in the Dark and the Artificers of Silver, if I remembered correctly.
“Hello,” she said, eyes not leaving the book. “Apologies for not introducing myself earlier. I do tend to get rather involved in research. Also, I didn’t exist a minute ago. Call me the Arcanist.”
I rubbed my temple. “I’m going to get a headache. Is this a case where you all have been in here all along? Different personalities, distinct from myself?”
“Nah, we ain’t like that. Nor will anyone else who shows up,” the ragged one said. “We are you. Not distinct people.”
I eyed the Xang. “Do you have a more technical explanation?”
She nodded politely with an eager smile. “We’re in essentially a fey dream space at the moment. Not normally a place that would accept one so tainted by the hells, but the Revered one has interceded on our behalf to carve us out a little space to try and give you the tools to handle the poison of the diabolism.”
Revered one?
“Kitsune are hardly favored in the country grandfather came from,” I said sardonically. “I really doubt my fantasizing about following that path when I was six would lead me to refer to Tagashin as ‘Revered One’.”
“We are partially her creations,” the ragged one said. “I can disrespect her a bit because I don’t have any respect for my creators, least of all some puffed up Fox spirit who thinks being born in some random grove gives her the right to meddle in people’s lives.”
“Very interesting and not at all relevant to what I asked. What are you?”
“Fey spirits most of the time,” The Xang said, pouring the tea, and for a second, the fresh scent calmed me down for a little bit. “Invited in here to play…roles of a sort. The revered one asked us in return for promises to grant us sentience in return for assuming roles drawn from your head.”
“But if fey time fuckery mixed with your aspirations,” The Ragged one said. “Consider what it would be like if your fantasies of your paths forward had actually gone forward. Your brightest, most optimistic imaginings and musings, consciously, or subconsciously. Given a little bit of life by a fey spirit interested in what it might be like to be sentient.”
“Ah,” I said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So Tagashin invited a bunch of fey spirits inside my head to look through all of my memories. That's so much better than expected.”
“We shouldn’t retain any of the information from in here after we leave,” the Arcanist said. “Before this, we were cognizant enough to leap at the chance of true sentience, but barely aware enough to be considered thinking creatures. And the process to awaken us after would wipe any memories we possess.”
That would be more convincing if it came from someone who wasn’t one of those fey creatures, but I didn’t argue the point.
“We’re here to act as…well, I suppose saying it would give the game away,” The Thief-Queen said, taking another swig of the mead.
“Annoyances?” I suggested. “Irritations perhaps?”
“Hey, it’s your head. If you want to call other versions of yourself annoyances, maybe consider what that says about yourself.”
“I really doubt you all are copies of me,” I snapped. “More likely versions of her, hiding behind disguises of me, so I don’t immediately get irritated at you snooping in my brain Tagashin!”
“She ain’t coming in even if you call her some of those really nasty words you’re thinking,” The Ragged one said. “She’s keeping an eye, but she’s not going to try and enter. Splitting open barriers is just going to make it easier for the diabolism to creep in.”
“Right. That. How does your all being in here help me with the diabolism trying to turn me into a devil? Or whatever else it might do?”
“Devil-hood is the most likely outcome,” The Arcanist said. “There are other possibilities that are much more detrimental to your immediate health in the sense that they’ll kill you right away.”
“The path of the devil is also likely to outright kill you,” The Xang cautioned. “What emerges from the other side of its embrace may have as little relation to Malvia Harrow as a stranger on the street.”
“Of course that’s not what it’ll promise,” the Ragged one added. “It’ll come bearing promises and offers, and being a devil, it’ll actually keep them. That’ll be the dangerous part.”
I coughed. “Nothing on how being in here helps me with any of that.”
“It gives you more of a fighting chance,” the Ragged one said with a sly grin. “It also gives you us to aid you on your quest, oh young adventurer!”
“Oh. Joy.” I said. “Three reminders of how I’ve personally failed at my own life. How useful. I get an overpuffed urchin, a bookworm, and a conformist who worships the person who put me here.”
“You know, there are three of us to one of you,” the Thief-Queen pointed out. “Maybe be a little more respectful? ‘Specially since you aren’t packing any weapons besides what nature and diabolism gave you.”
“I think respecting us would involve respecting herself first,” the Xang muttered.
I sighed. “Okay. How else does it help?”
“Can’t say,” the Thief-Queen said, giving me a cheeky grin.
“The kitsune was not very forthcoming on that part,” the Arcanist said. “I have theories, but they are the theories you would come up with so…circular.”
I sighed. More information is needed then. “I’m certain I’ll regret this, but how are you fantasies of mine? Meaning which ones?”
“I was when you first started poring over black-market alchemy tomes,” The Arcanist said. “Mother knew a little, and she set us on the path, but then you snagged that first book from the group stash when Varrow just wanted to pawn it. You’d heard about the guilds, and wanted so desperately to join. Another way out of what you considered hell, then. And of course, around a week later, you found out about the list of races not allowed to join the guilds and threw the idea of me away in the trash. Good on you for keeping the alchemy going, though.”
I grunted. There wasn’t much to argue with that. There had been a time, however brief, when my mind had flitted between all the potential escapes away from the Quarter in those initial months. Ways out. Ways to not be in pain, or preyed upon. None had really panned out, and I counted myself lucky this was the one of them to manifest. Hells help me if some of those others had been played by a fey spirit instead
“Who are you supposed to be my fantasy of?” I asked the ragged one.
“I’m the you who never left Varrow’s gang,” She said with an easy, widening grin. “I stayed, and become the thief queen of the Infernal Quarter and then later the entire damn city!”
“With Varrowr,” I said flatly.
“Hey, we said fantasies!” the so-called Thief Queen protested. “You do not want to meet what your normal expectations of what would have happened if you stuck it out with him. And definitely not your most cynical expectations. Boss lady took one look at those and decided they’re best kept the hell away from you. You’re a sorrowful enough soul as is without being confronted over what your subconscious thought your fate was at your lowest moments. ‘Sides, I took over from him very early on. Great information guy, though.”
“Not all of us are that bad,” the Arcanist said. “Some of us lived briefly enough that you didn’t have time to think of the worst possible outcome for them. Some you lacked the information for to come up with anything negative. Mind you, there’s quite a few that are entirely negative.”
“Of course there are,” I sighed. “That leaves you, then.”
The Xang smiled, having long since finished her tea-brewing, a set of cups set out with it, herbal scents wafting my way. “Tea is ready, if you’re interested.”
“I’m not interested,” I forced myself to say after a long moment of consideration. “Is that hand-crafted?”
“It’s the best your mind can remember having,” the Xang said, a teasing note in her voice. “How long have you wanted to experience the drake’s tea again?”
My mouth watered as I remembered the divine taste, and I forced myself to think of something, anything else to get my mind off of it. The corpulent, disgusting oversized bed bug I’d just fought was enough for me to regain my composure.
“You are not a fantasy of mine,” I snapped. “Even when I was young, I knew better than to idealize the damn Xangs.”
The other two stayed quiet, trading glances as I stared at the Xang.
“Malvia,” the Xang said sadly. “Denial is something you’ve held onto for far too long, even for yourself. Are you going to say there wasn’t a time when you wanted, yearned for nothing more than the love of your family? When you wished that you would be accepted by them? Hung onto the word of every story, every tale of the homeland? Prized every tradition as much as they did? Before it was poisoned by Diwei’s hatred, Liu’s betrayal, and the indifference of everyone else? When you just wanted to be loved?”
I stared at her, seconds passing, until a ragged breath left me. My tail whipped about, claws pressing out of my fingers, fins rising.
“Don’t you dare,” I snarled venomously. “Don’t you dare insult my mother like that. I was loved.”
The Xang, damn her, smiled that sad little smile. “Of course you were. A mother’s love should be unconditional, and luckily for us, it was. I think if she hadn’t, we would have shattered like porcelain long before the Quarter. But it’s also a deflection. You wanted a family Malvia, and they stabbed you in the back. It’s only natural you hate them for wielding the knife, but denying you wanted to be part of it beforehand is evading the truth.”
I stared, then shuddered, retracting my fins. “Is there a way to speed up when the diabolism gets here? I want this over with.”
“See, this is why the fox needed to wait for you to be worn out before even trying to apologize,” the Thief Queen said, pulling a deck of cards out of her coat. “Good chance your reaction to it would have been either stalking off or insisting ‘we’re wasting time, let’s focus on the case! ’”
“I apologize,” I said insincerely, glaring at her and getting glared back at in return. “I truly and deeply apologize for the crime of being the only one in this entire world apparently concerned with stopping the murders going on! Perhaps everyone else should have the outcome for not solving it be death, since that is apparently the only thing driving this entire investigation!”
“Atta girl,” the Thief Queen said, glare vanishing as she leaned back, that easy grin back on her face.
I looked at her in bewilderment before turning my attention to the other two.
“You aren’t wrong,” the Arcanist admitted. “The lack of immediate response to a potential diabolic breach of that size is very strange. Others have outlined in the past how even devils in the street is a challenge to the authority of the groups involved, yet they seem almost lackadaisical in their efforts.”
“At the same time, rushing off without a plan is not the best idea,” the Xang continued. “Never mind while you are actively hurt, tired, or otherwise not in a condition to continue. Even if Intelligence’s first response to you failing this despite trying would be execution, which even you don’t fully believe, what do you think will more effectively achieve that goal? You flailing about on too little sleep and hiding your wounds just beneath the surface? Or taking a moment to let yourself heal and pursue a more effective way forward?”
“Lastly,” the Thief-Queen added. “You have had people who have tried to actively help you with this. They seem pretty keen on getting this ended quickly, their objections are again mostly rooted in making sure you don’t go rushing off and getting killed because you fall asleep on the diabolist. Gregory, Melissa, and my honey Harper all have gone out of their way to try and help you solve this quickly but effectively. Speaking of, give Harper my love next time you see them, if you don’t mind? And tell them I’ll give Lareran their cut from my last job when I can.”
“I didn’t even know who Harper Metrill is until years after I left Varrow’s gang,” I said incredulously. “Also, you aren’t real!”
“I’m real for now, and that’s what counts,” the Thief-Queen replied. “And besides, fey loves a story, and it works on what's inside your head. We got a little more because Tagashin wanted to make some things clear, the parts involving your current situation, you wouldn’t know about. She didn’t want you running around here with no idea what’s going on, only to find us. She figured you’d probably end up fighting us, or trying to poison our tea or something before running around your own head not knowing what was going on.”
I couldn’t really disagree with that. “Depends on what is in here. What is in here?”
“You,” the Xang said. “A reflection of us. A thousand doors leading to a thousand parts of your mind, each part of you and in turn part of us.”
“I actually do disagree with the Fox,” the ‘Thief Queen’ added. “Straight up told her you getting dumped among us was just going to make you more suspicious and irritable. ‘Throw her in some chaos’ I said. It’s where we thrive, whether it’s bringing order or just riding it. Throwing you into a social situation instead is begging for you to go off like a blackpowder barrel next to an open flame.”
“I do not thrive in chaos,” I protested.
“Sure you don’t, you just get your best results when you’re in the middle of it.”
I ignored her. “You said a thousand doors?”
“Yes,” the Xang confirmed.
I raised an eyebrow, slowly looking around the entire room. One trapdoor, one door beyond the counter, the stairs leading back up, and the door to the ocean.
“I count four,” I said, earning an irritated glare.
“Don’t be so pedantic,” she said. “Or I won’t just deny you any tea, I will put a teapot-shaped dent in your forehead.”
My eyebrow crept even higher. “You’re certain you are an Xang?”
“Yes,” she said, even more notes of irritation in her voice. “I made that very clear to Aunt Diwei when I hit her in the face with the teapot.”
I was reluctantly forced to concede that this one might actually be closer to me than I thought.
“Very well,” I said solemnly. “I must concede that you possess the same perchance to violence as our beloved aunt, so clearly you must be part of the clan.”
“Oh yes,” the Xang said sarcastically. “My inclination to violence is to blame on Aunt Diwei.”
“Before anyone decides to try violence,” the Arcanist said. “The doors will lead to more doors. Maybe. They might be distinct parts of your mind, they might also just be crossroads like this one is. A familiar place your mind associates with safety, comfort and-”
“I’ve never been out on the open ocean,” I interjected.
“Yes, but you’ve always wanted to, especially after starting a rather satisfying series recently about pirates, adventure, and quite a bit of scandalous behavior on the high seas.”
I blinked. “Wait. Please tell me characters aren’t going to start appearing in my head?”
“If they left a strong enough impression, they probably will. Not as likely as living figures, but still possible.”
“Alright,” The Thief Queen said, leering. “Spill, who did your mind go to first? Lady Tel’dare? Captain Corsco? Aliandre the Pirate Queen of-”
“I am not going to be badgered about my tastes from someone who is lying with a person we have talked to one time,” I snapped at her.
“Blame your subconscious,” the Thief-Queen said, winking at me. “Even if you weren’t paying much attention the first time, and were sleep-deprived as hells the second, it picked up on what a fine person my lover is. Besides, we have the same tastes, more or less.”
“We know next to nothing about them,” I said. “How is that enough?”
“I don’t know, why did you decide to pursue Gregory Montague of all people? Now there’s one I don’t actually get.”
Xang coughed politely, her pleasant facade turning a bit forced. “I thought we agreed that we would not be doing that, so I would ask you to refrain from insulting my-”
“Okay, enough,” I said firmly. “I do not care whoever my conscious or subconscious assigned to be in a relationship with any of you-”
“Alice, for the record,” the Arcanist said, and I glared at her.
“Do you want me to send her your love as well when I wake up?” I asked sarcastically.
“Nah,” the Arcanist said with a contented sigh, gazing dreamily at nothing. “I think after last night she knows that.”
“I…you…” I turned back to the window, holding back another scream. This was ridiculous.
“It’s not real Malvia,” The Xang said from behind me. “Why are you getting so frustrated over something that you know isn’t reality?”
Things didn’t need to be reality to be uncomfortable, and honestly, I’d prefer going back to discussing Harper Metrill before even addressing the other two.
I walked over to the trapdoor, which was towards the far side of the shop floor. The Arcanist followed, while the other two stayed at the countertop, the Thief Queen fishing a deck of cards out of her coat before they started talking. Loudly.
“What will we play? Hang the Queen?”
“I’ll have you know I’m a loyal citizen of her majesty’s government.”
“Sure, and we’re both also the secret princess of Allonsaire. Come on, no one is going to find out about your anti-government sympathies in here.”
“Very well. I hope you are a better player than our aunt though. I have spent many a night stealing away both her dignity and pride at this game.”
“Yeah, I’m not letting some Lily-livered, practically noble Xang fleece me at cards. I have standards.”
“What do you think?” I asked the Arcanist, who was probably the one I could get along with the best. Not constantly poking and prodding, not a constant reminder of a family I tolerated at best. “This one first?”
“Any door should do,” The Arcanist told me. “It’ll all be representations of something inside yourself, and the fey realm goes for metaphor mostly. Going down first might find some things you believe unpleasant.”
“The underground has never held much terror for me,” I countered.
“Of course it hasn’t,” she replied. “Monsters and cave-ins, we like those don’t we? Nice and easy to deal with.”
I closed my eyes. “Please. One second without this?”
“Sorry. Whatever is around shouldn’t hurt you. Diabolism might, but for right now any diabolic influences should be held at bay by Tagashin. She won’t be able to delay its arrival forever.”
“Why delay it all?” I asked, opening my eyes again. “Just let it come and get it over with. The results will be the same.”
The Arcanist frowned, shaking her head quickly. “No, it wouldn’t have. If it came in the moment it had a chance, it would have flooded through the cracks in you and changed you by force. Bringing you to the Feylands itself helped some, but you were asleep. The Feylands operate on metaphor entirely. If you are asleep in here, it’s because your mind wasn’t capable of being aware. Which means you would have been unresisting, or worse, your only representative being the other consciousness that dwells inside you mind.”
Outside the sun’s light flickered. The two playing the card game paused, looking warily around as wood creaked and groaned. The floor underneath us began to tilt slightly, and wind blew in through the open window, carrying a chill on it.
“The Imp,” I said, looking out said window.
The sun was swiftly being overtaken by black storm clouds now, forming from nothing to consume parts of the sky.
“It can’t reach in here,” The Arcanist said.
“Asshole tried earlier, found the door locked,” the Thief-Queen added, yelling from the table. “I think it’s off either bewildered or sulking that you can have your mind blocked from its creepy little influence.”
To my mild annoyance, the storm clouds immediately faded and the other parts began to return to normal. A little spatter of rain as that irritation deepend. Immediately that brought questioning thoughts about why I was annoyed. That it had been so simple to break my bad mood? And that was what was making my mood worse?
The spatter of rain stopped as I looked out into the roiling waters as I felt that irritation leave.
“Sometimes things don’t need to be complicated,” The Arcanist said. “As much as I love studying the complex intricacies of magic, the simple formulae can be a key to the problem just as often as the difficult ones.”
“The Imp?” I said again. “You said it was unable to get in for now?”
“It had the ruddy door rammed in it’s face,” the Thief-Queen yelled again. “It’s not making it’s way inside. Stop focusing on it before that wind comes back and steals my cards!”
“It might make its way inside,” the Arcanist said, and the Thief-Queen swore, threw up some hand gestures, and turned her attention to the giggling Xang while the Arcanist ignored her. “Diabolism isn’t a counter to fey magic, but it does lie in your head, and denying it an attempt to reach inside could prove just as dangerous if not more so than the diabolism being slowed down.”
“Joyous,” I muttered. “If I beat it up inside here, could that permanently banish it?”
“Probably not,” The Arcanist admitted. “The contract is beyond the ability of the fey magic to influence or dissolve. At best you would remove it from this space and make it so it cannot return. Mind you, it would not want to fight. It would probably try to talk you into not resisting the diabolism.”
“Good luck with that,” I said, glaring at where the storm clouds had gathered. “I made my thoughts on that clear before I ended up here.”
The Arcanist’s face gained a reluctant expression, and I stared at it with a baleful one of my own.
“What?”
“We said the same thing about Diabolism, and then ended up returning to that,” the Arcanist said warily. “Don’t be angry, but it is what we decided in the end.”
I was getting irritated by the use of we, as well as it’s implicit accusation regarding Diabolism but I swallowed my anger.
“That isn’t unfair, but I didn’t go out of my way to pursue it,” I said.
“No, but you’ve hardly put it back in the bottle,” The Arcanist said. “Not when it started to change us, and not when your conscious mind decided to ignore that started after we agreed to let a certain devil teach us more about it.”
I had a retort on the tip of my tongue, then paused. That was correct, and if that was correct, then..damnations. I sighed, leaning forward, letting my head hit the wooden wall next to my smashed window with a dull thunk.
“It’s not a certainty,” the Arcanist said. “Remember what was said earlier. We don’t possess much knowledge beyond what you have picked up, consciously or subconsciously. But you did notice that your diabolism has stopped being as corruptive in its side effects at points. You chalked it up to the Imp’s training consciously, but a part of you has wondered-”
“I get the picture,” I said, lifting my head from the wall. “It wormed that through the contract because it thinks it’s helping, isn’t it?”
The Arcanist nodded. “The contract our brother forced on us and it does make it act in what it thinks is our best interest. The one benefit of what was negotiated on our behalf. Although I would be careful. Even if we have spent hours scouting it for any hidden traps, there is no possible way there isn’t some weapon of our brother’s hidden in the words to drive a dagger into us using the Imp the moment he perceives us as an actual threat.”
“Trust me, I’ve considered it,” I said. “Including the possibility that-“
“The contract we were given is not the actual contract?”
I frowned. “Please don’t do that.”
“Sorry. But yes, that’s a possibility. But the main thing is it does think it’s helping. Even as it drags you along a path you don’t like, it can’t imagine a way in which you follow the path of your father to be a bad thing. It considers our protestations just a phase of angst before we take our rightful throne.”
I chuckled. “Throne? We’d be eaten in seconds.”
“I think you underestimate yourself,” the Arcanist replied. “As always. And that might have helped to keep you from taking that plunge, but it’s a double-edged sword.”
“I am a lot less powerful than you think I am,” I replied. “If I weren’t, this wouldn’t be happening. I’d be like you three, the perfect little imaginings of how life could have gone.”
“Really?” the Arcanist replied. “Do we give off the impression that we’re that much more powerful than you? Or are we just within reach, but you don’t want to think we are?”
I was wrong. This one was just as difficult as the other two.
“I suppose we will find out,” I said, reaching down and lifting open the trapdoor.
A howling gust came up as it opened, earning a squawk of protest from the Thief-queen as it sent her cards flying. A smell came, of mold, of age, of death. The way down was familiar, one of the many underground tunnels dotting the city, a stone staircase descending down into the darkness.
“I guess you were right about the bad things being down there,” I said.
“Maybe not the best thing to tackle first,” the Arcanist cautioned.
I stared her in the eye. “Like any other way would be different.”
She didn’t reply, just seeming sad as I descended down into the tunnel.
Comments
Lecture Filler
I like the part in stories when the mc talks face to face with themselves. Cool arc. (Tagashin is still the best)
